


To perceive is to suffer

by CakeorDeath



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Gen, OC-centric, grim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CakeorDeath/pseuds/CakeorDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life can be really rather depressing. It’s always hard to realise this.</p><p>Edited slightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To perceive is to suffer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yeomanrand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeomanrand/gifts).



> Title from Aristotle.
> 
> Thanks to Circ Bamboo and igrockspock for all their help!
> 
> Not mine.

Communications log, personal accounts of officers

 _Betamax_ _V_ _is a tiny, unimportant, almost uninhabited moon._ _It has been argued over for seven cenfturies for what it symbolised – not for what it is._ _It was taken at the height of Betan aggression, despite having been a penal colony for the Maxims for several decades. As the Betan empire crumbled they clung on to it, as a way of keeping useless but well-connected civil servants busy._

 _For this reason alone, it has become a symbol, a rallying planet if you will, for anti-government feeling and radical Maxim zealots. There have been several high profile terrorist incidents in the last few years, as well as almost constant general unrest and civil disobedience. The current Betan government got in on a manifesto of restoring law and order_ _and_ _Betamax_ _V is the place where they have been focusing a lot of their energies._ _The official line is that Starfleet is there to help them in these efforts, but_ _we are_ _mostly there to make sure things don’t get out of hand, and avoid another interminable_ _fucking_ _war between the Betans and the Maxims._

 _Be careful chaps. Things aren’t exactly untense._

 _Best,_

 _Lt Khan, Rasheen._

 

 

“Johnson.”

 

“‘Oh, no, that’s fine, it doesn’t matter how it looks’. Webster.”

 

“‘That’s a good idea, Khan.’ McCoy.”

 

“‘I like being in space.’ Too easy.”

 

The game was interrupted by Uhura, who came striding into the room (Uhura seemed to have only two room-entering modes, striding or sprinting).

 

“Khan, Dearlove, anything happen?”

 

“Nothing. Apparently every resident of Betamax V has decided to have an early night, ma’am.”

 

“Right, what are you guys up to, then?”

 

“Conducting ourselves with the upmost professionalism befitting Starfleet officers serving on the USS  _Enterprise_ , Ma’am.” Dearlove saluted, to add to the overall impression.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Oh, all right, we’re playing that game, ‘the thing they would never say.’”

 

“I love that game! Give me one.”

 

“Miller,” said Dearlove, giving the name of the deputy head of the science department.

 

Uhura put on a whimsical expression. “‘You know, I sometimes get bored of talking about rocks.’”

 

“Let’s do Kirk!”

 

Everyone knew the answer to this one. “‘We should check the health and safety manual!’” came the chorus just as Captain Kirk of the USS  _Enterprise_  opened the door to the small room they were holed up in.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked, not uncheerfully.

 

“Oh, nothing, sir, nothing.” Khan began to shuffle through stuff on the table to hide her awkwardness, and Dearlove began to fill him in on what had happened in the four hours of the watch shift so far. This took about thirty seconds.

 

“That sounds like a boring evening. Well, you’re in luck; Uhura, Spock, and I will be taking over.”  _And I’m not going to tell you why_  being the spoken part of that sentence.

 

“Have fun, sir.”

 

“Sir, will we be on night duty tomorrow?”

 

Uhura checked her padd. “Yes, you will be. Don’t try to salvage your sleep patterns yet. Also, there is a risk of ion storms, so you won’t be able to go back to the ship tonight, sorry.”

 

“Okay. So, just to check, we’re off duty? Completely and-”

 

“You can go to the bar, yeah,” Kirk interrupted. The words ‘go away, we have grown up stuff to talk about’ floated around, unsaid.

 

“Right, well, good evening.”

 

The bar was pretty shit, all told; its floors were sticky and the room had that dampness which comes of being on a moon where it rains six days out of seven. The walls were covered with flickering digital advertisements, but had been covered with graffiti and damaged, so the image was flickering. It smelt strongly of cleaning fluid, but this didn’t quite cover up the smell of drunk people, and all the implications of their presence. Most of the proprietors were of the silent, _keep drinking, let’s not kill ourselves today_ type. But the drinks were cheap, and for Khan and Dearlove this trumped everything else. Besides, they’d had worse evenings.

 

They did not dwell on why they had been shoved out the door; this was not a night for lamentations of the subject of their careers. It was cheerful; Khan even told her joke about the opera-singing prostitute, which made Dearlove want to curl up into a ball with disgust, but in a good way.

 

In fact, Dearlove was just about to tell a similarly disgusting joke about a hat stand, trifle, and La Marseillaise when a young Betan approached them. She sat down, next to Khan; her hands were defiantly _not_ shaking.

 

“Hello!” Dearlove was awkward, and made up for it by being cheery, helped by slightly too much booze.

 

“I must speak with you, alone.”

 

Khan blinked several times, and tried to sober up mentally, while Dearlove suggested they go back to the base where her captain was working.

 

The young Betan woman shook her head. “No, in the back room, and only with you.” She gestured at, Khan, her eyes determined, the door to fear jammed shut and lent against. 

 

“Please, madam, anything you have to say to me you can say to my colleague.”

 

“No! No, I must talk to you, and to you only.”

 

Dearlove interrupted Khan before she could begin. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

 

“Please, this is important.”

 

“All right, all right, fine.”

 

The young Betan woman hurried up to a small door that Khan hadn’t noticed. Khan stopped at the bar to get herself a drink of water.

 

She was led into a small room filled with chairs stacked up, and the odd box filled with empty bottles, dishcloths, and the general detritus of a bar on a backwards moon.

 

“I couldn’t this in front of your friend, she is-” She gestured to her face. Half Andorian.

 

“She is a Starfleet officer, first and foremost. If you cannot trust her, you cannot trust me. And just because she is an Andorian does not mean she holds any malice towards you.”

 

The girl (because, in the stark light of the backroom, she really was a girl, making Khan feel old at twenty-four) waved her hands impatiently. “I have information, about the Mazzietee corporation. They have a side trade in illegal trafficking, trafficking humans, and Betans, and other beings.” Khan nodded, this was a rather open (if unprovable) secret.

 

“A ship was transporting Maxim workers to be domestic help on Eroniams V, when the economy collapsed. Knowing the refugees wouldn’t be able to pay him back because they couldn’t get enough work, the corporation ordered the left wing of the ship to be fumigated.”

 

“Fumigated?”

 

“Yes. The left wing of the ship was registered as without occupants, you see. They were slaughtered very quickly apparently. Most efficient.”

 

“Fucking hell. How ... how was this found out?”

 

“They searched the ... after the fumigation they searched the refugees for valuables. As they were smuggling them off Eroniams V one of the guard’s blind eye saw a family heirloom.”

 

Khan ran her hands through her hair, taking comfort in the familiar movement. “I suppose they’re all in Mazzietee’s pocket?”

 

“Yes. Couldn’t do anything. But he made inquiries.”

 

“How many people? How many refugees were killed?”

 

“Four hundred. A hundred of them young ones.”

 

“Children?”

 

“My sister went with her daughter, my niece. She was two years old.”

 

“This is awful. This ... of course Starfleet will launch a full investigation, criminal proceedings ...”

 

“They were illegal immigrants.” The girl’s voice was filled with a bitterness that did not fit her youth.

 

“That doesn’t matter. They were murdered. No one’s life is more or less valuable.” Khan felt comforting pride fill her. “When I joined Starfleet, one of the first things they told me was the world is full of people who aren’t important. Important to their families, but not the big wide world. Collateral damage. But we are here to care, to care about everyone. That’s our job.”

 

The girl smiled then, a lovely smile, with teeth and crinkly eyes. The sort of smile that can haunt you if you’re not careful.

 

 

 

The priority one situation room of the USS  _Enterprise_  was an almost unforgivable letdown. It looked like the sort of room where it ought to be decided what sandwiches the geography department should have on their exploration of a mine. Not the room for making dramatic decisions about very complex political and legal matters.

 

Khan was trying to avoid thinking about the conversation with Webster she’d had early in the morning after she had that conversation in the backroom. She was failing.

 

Khan didn’t like Webster and Webster didn’t like Khan. Unfortunately Webster was Khan’s immediate superior, and it was Webster’s job to give Khan the ‘what the fuck were you thinking, running off on your own like that to see some mysterious stranger’ talk.

 

It hadn’t occurred to Khan that what she had done was at all dangerous, until Webster dragged her into an empty office and shouted at her.

 

Khan did what she always did in these situations, which was to stare at a dot slightly to the right of Webster’s face, and respond ‘Yes Ma’am’ and ‘No Ma’am at appropriate moments. Indulging a piece of nasty specieism so that a scared young woman can tell you her horrific story was not something she was going to feel ashamed about, no matter what the regulations said.

 

“You are aware that this will have to be included in the report, I hope? You do realise the impact that this will have on the reputation of the communications department? Lieutenant Uhura-”

 

Khan’s face twitched, as she was reminded yet again of why she really did not like Webster.

 

“What? What was that look for?”

 

“Your job is not to assist in Uhura’s career plans! This is not important. Four hundred people!  _Four hundred_. Who cares if people think this department is a bit shit?”

 

“How  _can_  you be so naive? You amaze me.” Webster sat down on a desk, the fight knocked out of her. “Go away. I’ve had more than enough of you. I’ll deal with this later.”

 

Nothing annoyed Khan more than being told she was naïve, especially when she wasn’t told about. Khan fidgeted, hoping the meeting would start soon. It suddenly occurred to her that Uhura and Kirk, and the rest of the senior officers coming to this meeting, would consider her coming ridiculously early not to be some sign of her importance and value as a committed officer, but rather the sign that she was a bit weird. Waiting in her room for had been impossible, and she didn’t feel like socialising.

 

She stood as the door slid open, but it was only Mr Martinson, the non-com lawyer. He looked concerned, and it deepened when he realised who was in this room.

 

“You are Khan, right, Lieutenant?”

 

“Yes, that’s me, Mr Martinson.”

 

“Please, just Martinson. You were the one who brought it to our attention?”

 

“I was told it, yes, on Betamax V.”

 

“I’m sorry, no prosecution will go ahead.”

 

“What?”

 

“There will be an investigation, and we may get the CEO one day, but there isn’t any real evidence.”

 

“The testimony-”

 

“Wouldn’t stand up in a Betan court, and they’re extremely reluctant to piss off the Mazzietee corporation, so they’ll block any Federation attempts. Khan, look, it’s horrible, but it’s what happens in places like this. People don’t matter enough.”

 

Khan swallowed, and wiped her eyes.

 

“Well, it was kind of you to tell me. I’m just going to use the bathroom quickly.”

 

Khan didn’t go to the meeting. She couldn’t be in there as it was explained to them, and they sighed and carried on, just as they always do.

 

She knew getting older meant you became less idealistic, but she felt like all her youthful idealism had been sucked out of her in a one-minute conversation.

 

 

 

Webster found her in a tiny office somewhere in the communications department.

 

“I’m not on duty, ma’am.”

 

“You were supposed to be at a meeting. You weren’t at the meeting.”

 

“Of course. My apologies.”

 

“I heard about the result. Very sorry, you know. Things like that are always shit-”

 

“You don’t care! Don’t even pretend,” Khan said, unable to keep it in.

 

“No, I don’t.” Such a blunt admission had not been what Khan had been expecting. “Of course, it makes me sad, and it’s a bugger, and tonight I’ll probably shed a few tears when I think of my niecephews, but, you know, I don’t care ... not enough.”

 

Webster poured out two cups of an unidentified liquid. “And you don’t care. I mean you care now, about this one incident. But this happens every day on a smaller scale, on thousands of worlds, on thousands of ships. People are sick and doctors can’t or won’t come. People are expensive, people are useless.”

 

“So you’re saying I should become heartless, I shouldn’t care?”

 

“You _will_ care less. Because you have to live your life. You have to sleep. You have to remember it’s your aunt’s birthday, and care it’s your aunt’s birthday.”

 

“My sanity is not more important than four hundred innocent lives.”

 

“It’s your life, and you have to live it.”

 

Khan didn’t say anything to this, but picked up one of the cups.

 

“I talked to Uhura,” said Webster, using her lecturing voice. “She says that they are going to see if they can do the CEO for tax avoidance.”

 

“Tax avoidance.”

 

“I know. Fucking awful. There isn’t much we can do. Except for keeping on trying, and making sure that people who can help, who can find loopholes, and can do research are still in important places.

 

“Do you know how hard Kirk had to work to get Uhura? It _matters_ that she’s successful and important, because she is the best. Quite simply. We’ve got to keep her. And it’s bloody hard. Far too hard.

 

“You can help people in general, if you’re lucky. But not often in particular.”

 

Khan wiped her eyes again, and drained her cup.

 

“Go and talk to your friend, Dearheart, is it?”

 

“Dearlove. I know. Her first name’s Merrily.”

 

“‘Merrily Dearlove’? Was it a particularly painful birth, do you reckon?”

 

Khan laughed at this, and then hastily followed with, “I still don’t like you.”

 

“No, me neither. Fuck off, I’ve got work to do.”

 

Khan went towards the door, and then stopped, turning round. “Tax avoidance? He’ll get what, two years? Four hundred lives. That woman. That  _girl_. She came to me for help. She came to Starfleet to help.”

 

“Fucking awful. First lesson of adulthood: Most of the stuff they tell you at the academy that makes you feel warm and cuddly inside is a load of shit.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and concrit are welcome.


End file.
